The room smelled of antiseptic, the steady beeping of the monitor the only proof he was still here. Anna sat by his side, staring at the pale blue sheets, at his still face. He was alive. Breathing. That should have been enough.

But it wasn’t. Her chest hurt anyway.

Because Theodore had never been kind to her. Not once. Their beginning wasn’t love—it wasn’t even real. It was just a dare, a stupid challenge his friends had thrown at him, and he had taken it just to prove them wrong. She knew all along. And still, she stayed. Because even if it was a game to him, it was all she had.

Now he lay there with no cruel smirks, no sharp words. Just a blank slate. And Anna couldn’t stop wondering—should she stay? Or give him the medicine for his own manipulation?